


Five Times Eames Is Surprised by Arthur’s Firsthand Knowledge and One Time He Isn’t

by twilight_shades



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Board Games, Books, Buried Alive, Guitars, Knitting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 06:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11663661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilight_shades/pseuds/twilight_shades
Summary: Books, knitting, guitar, Candy Land, being buried alive, and keeping a person captive.





	Five Times Eames Is Surprised by Arthur’s Firsthand Knowledge and One Time He Isn’t

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Do not own. Complete fiction.

1\. Books

“Are there sandworms?” Arthur asks idly, as he looks upon the desertscape.

Ariadne makes a small sound of disappointment. “I was trying for somewhere between Tatooine and Baja California.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No, definitely more Arrakis.” He gestures with his chin towards some rocky terrain in the distance and the small figures near them. “Those projections are Fremen, not Sand People or surfers.”

Eames smiles and says, “Dune, Arthur? Doesn’t seem quite your cup of tea.”

“Well,” Arthur says dryly, “amongst reading treatises as to how to iron a shirt correctly, looking up actuarial tables, and perusing new tax code, I occasionally read something fictional. But don’t worry Mr. Eames, I never use my imagination.”

Eames feels a little giddy as he always does when he can get Arthur to banter. “Tell me that you’ve read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and my life shall be complete.”

Arthur peers at him and raises an eyebrow. “Why would that matter to you?”

“Because a great many very silly things happen to a fellow named Arthur and it brings joy to my heart to imagine you frowning your way through it’s absurdity.”

Arthur stares at him a long moment, saying nothing.

Eames sighs in regret. Music starts to play and a few seconds later, they’re all waking up in a warehouse. 

Arthur gets himself up, straightens his clothes a bit and starts to head for the table he commandeered as his own. As he passes by Eames, he quietly murmurs, “I never could get the hang of Thursdays.” 

Eames blinks at Arthur’s back and laughs delightedly.

 

2\. Knitting

When Eames finds Arthur sitting on a sofa, knitting, he immediately goes for his token. But, no this is not a dream. Arthur is actually knitting, with yarn in a soft aqua, using very thin knitting needles to make small stitches. Eames just stares for a while. Arthur doesn’t say a thing, though he must know Eames is there. Precisely on the hour, Arthur stops, bundles the yarn, needles and whatever he was knitting into a bag. The bag goes into a drawer and a few minutes later the rest of the team comes back from getting lunch. Eames is distracted for the whole rest of the afternoon.

 

3\. Guitar

Eames discreetly looks around for Arthur in the park. He knows he’s here somewhere, observing the mark, but Eames can’t find him. Eames stops in front of a street performer, a man sitting on a blanket near the pavement. The man is curled forward, hunched over his guitar, playing Rondeau. There’s an open guitar case next to him with quite a few notes and coins in it. The guitar player is good and something about his hands seem familiar. Eames studies what he can see. The man is dressed in worn jeans and open threadbare brown and white flannel button-down over a faded green shirt. Eames can’t see the man’s face because of his hair, brown with curling tips, hanging down, obscuring his view, though Eames has the impression of youth, early-twenties, maybe a university student. Eames can’t place him. The guitar player finishes the song and starts Ode to Joy. He is very good. Eames catches a glimpse of the mark out of the corner of his eye, but still can’t spy Arthur anywhere. Eames drops some cash in the case and moves to a bench not far from the guitar player. 

Eames pulls out his phone and pretends to text while watching the mark and listening to the performer. Eames takes pictures of the people that the mark interacts with and others that he gets close enough to that he could have said or given something to them. After a half an hour, the mark heads back to his office, just up the block from the park. Eames still has no idea where Arthur is. He gets up and goes over to where the guitar player has stopped playing and is packing up. 

“You’re really very good, you know. You should try some open-mic nights,” Eames says.

The guitar player looks up. And Eames just stares, gobsmacked.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Eames, but I have other things that keep me pretty busy,” the guitar player, _Arthur_ , says with a smirk. Then he picks up his guitar in its case and the blanket and leaves.

Eames stands frozen for a moment before shaking himself out of it and leaving the park. He finds himself humming Rondeau as he saunters along, thinking about how to suggest that they should surveil the mark here again tomorrow.

 

4\. Candy Land

Eames hates this job. Desperate parents hoping that a team going into their comatose son’s dreams can figure out what exactly happened to him and thus possibly give his doctors a clue how to treat him. The dream is so odd. The path they’re on is one brightly colored square after another and the surrounding scenery looks weirdly flat and almost cartoon-ish except for the oversized candy pieces that seem to be littering the place. Arthur doesn’t seemed bothered by it at all, just following the boy along the path and idly asking questions, leading up to when he fell ill. Eames has no idea where Ariadne is. The boy stops suddenly and up ahead there’s something that looks like a marsh.

“I always get stuck here,” the boy says softly.

“Yeah, but we have get past it to get to the castle,” Arthur says mildly.

“Maybe we could go see Frostine,” the boy says hopefully.

“Gloppy isn’t that bad,” Arthur says.

Eames has no idea what they are talking about.

“It’s cooler with Frostine,” the boy says.

“Were you hot?” Arthur asks.

“I… Yeah, I was really hot and I felt heavy, like I couldn’t move. And my head hurt. And then it was like when your foot falls asleep, except all over,” the boy says, the words tumbling out.

“But you’re okay now,” Arthur says quietly.

The boy nods. “The swamp just reminds me.”

“Okay, let’s go see Frostine then,” Arthur says and holds out his hand.

The boy takes it and smiles. They swing around and head back the way they came, Eames trailing confusedly after them. The boy chatters happily at Arthur, who seems to listen, occasionally interjecting a comment of his own. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised at how good Arthur is around children, Cobb’s sprogs sometimes call Arthur up and he always takes the time to talk to them. Come to think of it, he’s heard Arthur say he’s going to visit James and Phillipa, never really mentioning Cobb.

After they’re out of the dream and have given the grateful parents all the information and left Ariadne at her hotel room (she had apparently had some trouble getting out of a peanut brittle house), Eames asks Arthur about the dream. “Candy Land. It’s a board game for children. We used to play it a lot,” Arthur says, his voice bland, but an unhappy twist to his lips. Eames doesn’t ask him to elaborate.

 

5\. Being Buried Alive

Eames is pretty sure Ariadne and their new chemist, Nisha, think Arthur is joking, but Eames can see the same horrified realization he feels in Saito’s eyes, even though his general sense of composure doesn’t falter.

“So, not something you recommend, then?” Saito asks with a remarkable calm, as if they aren’t talking about being buried alive, as if Arthur didn’t just all but say that he’d been buried alive and had to make his own way out.

Arthur just shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Even the most pragmatic are liable to have trouble keeping their panic from overwhelming them for a good bit of time. And that kind of panic can be unpredictable.”

“Very well,” Saito says and looks at his watch. “I believe we should break for the day. We can finalize the scenario tomorrow.”

Arthur frowns a little, but agrees.

Saito gives Eames a significant look as he leaves. Eames nods at him. Eames waits until Ariadne and Nisha have said their goodbyes strolled off, talking about religion and music together, before heading over to where Arthur’s straightening things.

“Mr. Eames,” Arthur says.

“Arthur, we should go get something to eat. How do you feel about Cajun?”

“Or we could just talk about whatever it is you’re supposed to talk to me about right here.”

“Caught that, did you?”

Arthur nods.

Eames bites his lip, then decides to be blunt. “When were you buried alive?”

“Oh. Years ago.”

“Well, I feel completely satisfied by your in-depth storytelling. I have no more questions,” Eames says, letting the sarcasm drip from his lips.

“What do you want to know?”

“Was it like Cobol? Were they just trying to torture you? Or someone else with the thought of you being buried? How long did it take for you to get out? When did you decide they weren’t going to get you out and you had to do it yourself? Do you have nightmares about it?”

“No. No. In a way, it was a K&R. Several hours. I didn’t decide they weren’t going to get me out, I just decided I was going to get out myself,” Arthur says like he’s ticking them off a list and then he pauses for a long moment before answering the last question, “Used to.”

Eames is shocked Arthur answered. But him deciding to rescue himself seems very Arthur-ish. Eames figures he might answer some more questions if he asks right now. He really wants to know about the nightmares, but thinks he should get answers about the event itself first. “Kidnap and ransom? For what? From whom?”

Arthur eyes him. “Money. A very rich couple.”

“Your parents?” Eames asks hesitantly. He knows very little of Arthur’s background, even though he very much would like to know more (he’s fished for it, he’s tried to research it, he’s even asked Cobb).

Arthur gives a short laugh that doesn’t have a lot of humor in it and shake his head. “A very nice couple I was seeing.”

“Seeing?” Eames asks, his voice going so terribly high, he cringes.

“Yes. Seeing. In a relationship with.”

“You’re into threesomes?”

Arthur has a small, fond smile on his face as he replies, “I’ve only had the one, really. It’s not something I actively sought out, but it was good. If the right couple came along at the right time, I’d be amenable.”

“What- No, wait, we can come back to that another time, to explore in detail, but I want to know what happened with the kidnapping. No sidetracking.”

“You’re the one that asked. They paid, but by that time I had already gotten free, so I stole the money back and left, ran into their head of security who was coming to get me. They paid so she could follow the money because they didn’t think the kidnappers, a would-be cartel, would let me go. I don’t think the would-be cartel planned to dig me up, either. I parted ways, amicably, with the couple a few months later.”

“And what happened to the would-be cartel?”

“Some of them ended up in prison and the rest were killed when an actual cartel took umbrage at their existence.”

“Your doing?”

Arthur smiles. “No, mine would have involved more psychological torture. That happened before I had a chance to enact any plans.”

“Ah, Arthur, just when I think I couldn’t be more enamoured of you,” Eames says with a sigh. He is sadly, quite serious, even if he doesn’t sound it.

Arthur gives him an unamused look. “Anything else you’d like to know, Mr. Eames?”

“Yes.”

Arthur sighs and gestures for him to go ahead.

Eames wants to get back to the nightmares. “You said ‘used to’. Does it not give you nightmares anymore?”

Arthur looks startled. “Sorry?”

Eames realizes he was expecting Eames to continue to question him about threesomes. Which he will, and ask other questions about Arthur’s relationships since he’s opened the door, but later. “You don’t have nightmares anymore?”

Arthur gives him a thoughtful look. “My nightmares are about other things, now.”

“What, then?” Saito, Ariadne, and Eames had all had a discussion one day about nightmares of dying while dreamsharing and/or getting lost in limbo and a reluctant Arthur had been pulled into the conversation just to say that he’d never had nightmares about either and Eames had believed him. Eames knows that nightmares don’t always follow logic, don’t need to be about experiences, don’t even need to be remotely possible, but he feels like Arthur’s would be based on something bad he had experienced. It had bothered him that Arthur didn’t have nightmares about dying while dreamsharing or getting lost in limbo because it had worried him that Arthur had gone through something worse and he’d thought that being buried alive would have been it.

Arthur’s mouth twists. “I’m in an elevator, alone.”

Eames is confused. But then he remembers what Arthur had to do in zero gravity.

“Oh, Arthur.”

“Oh, Eames,” Arthur says back, mocking, clearly not wanting to dwell on it.

“Fine, we’ll put that aside. For now. And we can talk about threesomes.”

Arthur rolls his eyes.

“Of course, I am willing to talk about whatever other thing you want to… as long as it’s about your sex life.”

Arthur makes a face like he’s trying not to smile. “Mr. Eames,” he says admonishingly.

“Oh, Arthur, come on,” Eames whines, “I was just very serious here for whole minutes at a time.”

Arthur snorts. “Feathers.”

“What? Feathers? Feathers, how? Used on you? Used by you on others?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I so very, very much would,” Eames says as fervently as he possibly can.

Arthur blinks. He picks up his bag. He gestures Eames along with a jerk of his head as he starts to head out. “I could show you.”

It’s possible that Eames has never moved so fast in his life.

 

+1. Keeping a Person Captive

While Eames is surprised to learn how much a person’s skin can be sensitized to the slightest touch and how differently each different type of feather can feel, he is hugely unsurprised by Arthur’s vast knowledge of and experience with keeping a person right where he wants them.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you find any typos or if the format is messed up or if you think I need any tags.


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